


The Eviternity Chronicle

by Confronting_the_faceless



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Austerity, Corruption, Ex death eaters, F/M, Family, Good Slytherins, Harry Potter Next Generation, Journalism, Newspapers, Next Generation, Next-Gen, Post-War, Quidditch, Repercussions of the war, Slytherin, Strained Relationships, Writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15675720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confronting_the_faceless/pseuds/Confronting_the_faceless
Summary: Edith Nott has always wanted justice, that's why she became a journalist- to find the truth in the web of lies.James Potter is a quidditch player trying to prove that he his not just a copy of his parents,  suffocating in his parents bubble - only just realising the truth; leading him to the paper.





	1. 1.

Edith sat observing the chaos in front of her. She ran her hands through her knotty short hair- making it stand even more on end, as she lit up a cigarette, silently thanking whoever made them as she looked at the box ;Vize's cigarettes- all evil removed! (No chemicals or nicotine or nasties or smell- but still proper cigars!) She blew the smoke out slowly as she looked about at the madness that was the Eviternity chronicle two hours before publication and distribution, the large office seemed to hold an air of silent panic as the majority of the room was rushing- trying to get their papers together, whilst others were lounging about seemingly oblivious to the minutes going down on the board.

  
“Oi Henry, use my lighter if you are going to take so long, you have five fucking minutes,” shouted Edith as she lobbed her lighter across the room to the youngest- Henry who had only been with them a year- straight out of Hogwarts who still had quite a lot to learn. He looked up slightly nervously at Edith, who had her feet up on the piles of paper on her desk glaring at everyone in her raised office which had the doors completely open as usual, so she was part of the room, he quickly went back to checking his work.

This is why I do it, Edith thought, the mad rush before printing, the anticipation of which storm will strike next. It makes one feel alive. Even though you're in a busy office, in the middle of London, it feels like you're walking on a cliff on a blustery day; because you know someone is going to be held accountable for their actions; someone's story has been told, and you're standing up shouting _we know what you are doing and we will make it end_.

That's why she went into journalism. That's why she became co-editor of the paper she set up, at heart she was just a reporter, but her title gave her more of a voice, she now got to choose what to report and which battles to fight. 

  
Amy walked back into the room from downstairs and sat down on the desk which had a sign saying co-editor on, which was neat and tidy, the complete opposite to the other editor -Edith’s desk, which was thriving in organised chaos.

  
“We are ready to make the practice run, are still using the corruption in quidditch front page?”

  
Edith let out a laugh when she replied “Yeah, see who sues us this time. Do you have the list for the order so I can collect for you?”

Amy handed over the list as Edith stood up ungracefully.  
“Right everyone, I am going to collect the final copies- those are the ones with the layout and the pictures, so Jane...Phillip...” It continued like that until Edith had collected them all and handed the copies to Amy, who smiled and said well done to the room as she left.

  
Edith followed and called “You can bugger off for fifteen minutes, well done everyone.” The noise of the room increased greatly as everyone started talking.

  
Edith smiled at May- Amy’s wife who worked in printing, was putting paper into the press. Amy handed her the copies and they immediately started with the spell work, the printing press sprang into life.

You had to marvel at how efficient the process was. The final copies were copied using magic to put the metal letters into the right place onto the sheets, a metal version of the pictures was also created and it was all charmed to print the right colours, this was still happening when the first sheets were being printed, and the process would continue after they had been checked by Edith, Amy and Jill (the proof reader).

  
“I like this,” Edith declared to May, who then asked Amy and Jill if there were any mistakes.

  
“None.”

  
“No mistakes- there never are, we always get to them early on,” Amy said as her and May set up the press to continue printing.

  
“It will take about 50 minutes to print" May said as they left the room.

  
“It is being printed, so we have some time before we distribute,” Edith said to the room, who all were listening except Jane who was fussing over a potted plant on her desk, “Good God Jane, I don’t know whether to call that plant beautiful or hideous- write something about it for next week.”

  
“Will do" said Jane as she scribbled a post-it note.

  
“We will start planning next week in a moment, but more important issues are calling. Jen made us cake and everyone else who ditched us this evening left us a box of chocolates.” Ann conjured plates when Edith rummaged in a desk draw, and continued. “Advertisements are a good thing,” she said as she put an unopened packet of whisky and Vize's cigarettes, “the companies always send a thank you every week,” she exclaimed happily to the smiling faces, who were all assembled near the board at the front of the room, leaning and sitting on the desks – some even spinning on the chairs.

  
“I think I should pour as usual, and cut the cake as I don’t make a hash of it,” Amy said glaring at Edith, most people rolled their eyes as Edith began to reply.

“It was only once.”

“Yeah, I only let you do it once!”

Edith started passing the cigarettes around, “I would like to thank everyone for your usual hard work and good quality writing, and also a big thanks to Amy and everyone else who deals with complaints!” She raised a glass and everyone followed. “Before we distribute and you try and escape for the weekend we need to start thinking about what we are going to do next week, for those keener of us who want to start over the weekend.”

Amy rolled her eyes, “You know we can never escape,” someone said I’ll drink to that and more whisky was poured. “As you know my lot has sorted most of the letters for you to either reply to or write about, into this set of your pigeon holes,” Amy continued as she tapped the cabinet then pointed at a tray next to a plant, “and as usual this pile is for Edith to sort and you to fight over, there will be more stuff coming so as usual prioritise the stuff on the left.”

“Why do Jane, Phillip and I always have the most?” Betsy groaned.

“That’s because you are the agony aunt, Jane is gardening and Phillip does feedback!” retorted Henry.

“Don’t worry Betsy- you might spend half of your time responding to middle aged people worried and confused about their child's expression or confusion of their gender or sexuality, but Henry spends his trying to wrangle the truth out of the bastards at the ministry. Right we need to plan,” Edith added as she pushed herself of her desk and went to the walls with boards on with a pen.

On one of the smaller boards she, wrote:  
_Run up to quidditch season – 2 months to go_  
_• Interviews with the quidditch players who accepted_  
_-Sat, Wimbourne Wasps – Edith......._

  
Edith continued writing the list out.

“Isn’t Kath helping tomorrow?” Jane asked.

  
“Her children had prior arrangements,” Edith said bitterly.

  
“Try not to piss them off to much,” Betsy said seriously.

  
“What me? You know how much everyone likes me and how much I love quidditch players.”

  
“Who is doing the chart and score sheet?” someone asked.

  
“You are doing the charts and player profiles, well probably mainly Edith, and my lot will take care of score sheet,” said Ann as people started picking up their bags and going downstairs to help distribute the papers.

 

  
“Have a good weekend,” Edith said as everyone began to trickle out of the building, she looked at the clock- it was half ten, she mused that that was probably a key factor into why she had no social or romantic life as a twenty-four year old, as most of her peers, even if they were in a relationship would already be off their head in a club somewhere - not that Edith enjoyed this as she would have had an argument with someone or pissed off the entire room by a stray comment or two.

  
After Amy and May had wished her good luck with the quidditch interviews as they left, she went back upstairs to turn the lights off.

Walking through the silent building she could here the press grinding to a halt and could feel the heat resonating from the room, she looked at the empty reception- which was neat compared to the rest of the building, the same could be said with most of the rooms downstairs, whereas upstairs was chaotic, busy and full of life- even when empty. The paper was doing well, she thought, nearly six years after her and her best friend Amy had set it up with the backing of their parents company, it had expanded and grown, developed a reputation- whether that good or bad, and was very well known. She hoped that was because of their original insight into matters and how they always gave truthful yet still opinionated journalism – not because of the amount of times they had been brought to court or the never ending complaints they received from non-readers. The lights shuddered off over the office leaving the large room in darkness.

Her flat was dark when she got back, and she sat in the dark, the only light source being the moonlight shining in through the window, with the rest of the bottle of whisky, alone, chain-smoking as she wondered how soon the reaction to this week’s addition would be. She was quite pleased with her article, she felt like it painted a clear picture of what the quidditch industry was like. She fell asleep on the chair, with the empty glass in one hand as she worried about what tomorrow would bring.

 

* * *

  
James Potter took a deep breath to prepare himself for dinner with his parents – why they invited just him on a Friday night as they knew that Lily and Albus were going out was beyond him. His relationship with his parents had always been strained but now even more so, they had completely different views to him, not that his were extreme but they were always in their own little bubble which never seemed to burst so that they saw everything through a rose tinted lens. He also felt like everything he did never lived up to what they expected of him, nothing was ever acknowledged in a proud parental manner, just a slightly patronising so-and-so said to say way. He was also constantly being compared to the achievements of his parents, by the public and themselves, and the worst thing was people said his achievements were not because of his hard work but because of his parents.

“How have you been?” James asked trying to break the awkward silence as he passed the potatoes.

“Oh, I have been very busy with work especially with all of the continuous investigations and new ones we have been carrying out- we really are being stretched,” Harry replied, his age was beginning to show; his hair had thinned greatly and was more grey than jet black, his green eyes helped to show the lines on his face brought on with age, surrounded by grey stubble on his chin – he had not aged as graciously as other people in their fifties. Ginny had aged slightly better, soft grey streaks in her now faded ginger hair, her skin was soft -less wrinkly than Harry's, yet she looked thin and fragile. James is so different to both of them both personality wise and physically in many different ways; he was broad and muscled unlike their wiry and thin frames. His hair was not ginger, thin and straight nor was it black and unruly- it was a slightly textured chestnut which was not tidy but it would certainly never be compared to Harry's.

“Wouldn’t it be better to focus the resources on new threats, not old criminals who haven’t done anything for the past thirty years and are not likely to do anything in the future?” questioned James.

“There are no new threats, and they are going to do something- I am sure of it,” shouted Harry, hitting his knife on the table in rage which was quickly contained as he took a sip of water.

“I have also been busy in the run up to the league, the sport department are trying to make everything as easy as possible so we will not be in a mad rush- unlike some newspapers,” Ginny cut in trying to hide her husband’s recent outburst . Harry was currently surveying James as he was eating the overcooked vegetables.

“What newspaper do you read Son, if you read one at all, that is?”

James swallowed “ Of course I read Mum’s bit, but I have a subscription and read the Eviternity Chronicle.”

Harry scoffed, “And why would you read that?” He then muttered quietly to Ginny but James still heard, "It's a bloody idealistic, trouble causing paper with connections to the dark side."

“Because I like their honest approach to journalism, the intellect and passion which they have for the things they are writing about. It also isn’t tied up and controlled by the ministry.”

“That’s rubbish,” cried Harry.

“The prophet isn’t controlled by the ministry,” said Ginny at the same time.

James slowly continued to cut up the oily potato, “It is just my opinion, but it does seem a lot like that to an outsider.” The rest of the meal continued like this in awkward silence.

  
When James was back in his flat he thought to himself, how many times did they talk about themselves and how important their fucking jobs were. Every single thing his siblings had done and how he should be more bloody like them. How many times did they ask him something about how he was and what he had been doing? Not once without them criticizing him. Why did this matter to him so much? He was twenty-five not a bloody child. But he knew he wanted to prove himself to them. He wanted them to see and recognise himself- as he truly was not some cardboard cut out saying _Harry and Ginny Potter's clone no.1_ , he wanted them to see what he enjoyed, he wanted them to treat his opinion as an equal to theirs.

Great, he thought as he looked at the clock, early morning quidditch practice then an interview tomorrow.

But it kept tugging at the corners of his mind- that nothing was going to change.

 

 

 

 


	2. The interview

“Is Potter the only one here who isn’t fucking hungover?” shouted the coach.

  
James Potter was sat in the Wimbourne wasps changing rooms after a practice that can only be described as shit; everyone was half asleep, badly hungover, constantly running off the pitch as they began retching and the plays were sloppy. It was not the kind of practice you want two months before the league, coach had been thinking along the same lines.

  
“We only have two months until the league!” he continued to shout rounding on different players “As a team you have been crap all week. How do you expect to win any matches when you can’t be bothered to show up to practice in a fit state?”

  
“But it is Saturday morning, coach” Jake Beard – one of the beaters replied.

  
“I know it is Saturday morning, it is you, Beard and everyone in this room except Potter, Dawson and Crowen, need to learn what fucking day it is and when to stop drinking!” Coach continued like this for quite some time, Ben and Ellie stopped their staring contest when they heard their names whilst James zoned out, still mulling over the disastrous dinner with his parents the night before. He would be able to understand why his parents looked at him disappointedly if he was like most of his team- the type who spent all of their time drunk in the club and fucking strangers.

  
He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts as Ben started shaking his shoulder. “It’s safe to come out now, coach has finished two minutes earlier than usual, they never learn do they?”Ben pointed his head to the group of team mates who slouched out of the room, all heavily hungover.

  
“That would be beyond them,” retorted James as they began to walk out of the building.

  
“Oi, wait for me!” shouted Ellie, the seeker and the smallest member of the team as she finished tying her shoelaces. James and Ben shared a smile – Ellie was always slow, quite ironic as she was the fasted person on the team.

 

“I think you are the only one who did anything last night, how did dinner go?”

  
“The usual- shit.” James said as they looked out of the windows that lined the corridor, "They're so wrapped up in their little bubble."

  
“Any one else being interviewed later by the Eviternity Chronicle?” Ellie interrupted as she caught up.

  
Ben nodded and James replied, “We all are, coach said we all have to be interviewed by the same newspaper to give the image of a team.”

  
“Have you seen their latest article?” Ben said with a grin as Ellie squeezed in between them as they continued walking.

  
“It’s time someone said it.” James replied.

  
“They must get into so much trouble,” Ellie added as she looked at Ben’s watch.

  
“What’s the time?”

  
“Half ten, we don’t have to be there until two, do we?

  
“Yes, don’t worry, we’ve got ages.”

 

* * *

  
“Shit,” said Edith as she woke up with a start, the empty glass rolling on the carpet as she stood up from the chair she had fallen asleep in.She told herself that she should really stop doing this as she put the empty bottle next to the others on the draining board and put the glass on the pile of washing up. 

Edith looked at her cat, Lavender, who was sitting on the counter and said “ What am I doing with myself,” after an unsuccessful look for non- mouldy bread , she ended up settling for an over-ripe banana. She carried on thinking this as she emptied her drawers trying to find something suitable to wear, her short hair dripping on all of her clothes as she was just out of the shower, her trousers lay on the floor and she began to rummage again for a suitable top; which most of which lay on her bed. Edith completely ignored the mess as she opened her wardrobe to find a jacket and told herself that she would clean it up later as she tripped over her underwear – which had somehow managed to get into the hall, as she left the house.

  
“No one likes people who tell others what to eat to be fucking healthy,” Edith shouted as she finished sorting through letters with articles and questions in, whilst eating a packed of crisps and a chocolate bar with coffee for her lunch. She sighed a she looked at the clock realising that it was time to prepare, she stole one of Henry’s cigarettes in annoyance, which she smoked as she collected the list of those that she was intervening. Great she thought to herself a whole fucking quidditch team to interview. I pay Kath for a reason.

  
Looking at the question suggestions as she went and opened up the interview room; which had two sofas and a coffee table in the centre of the room which was filled with orchids as Jane said it was a perfect place for them. Edith had to admit that Jane had done a good job as the room had a professional and organised feel whilst still maintaining warmth. The same could be said about the waiting area as Jane had also left some of her plants there. If you ever needed a plant or there is some empty space, Jane will whip out strange and exotic creations from her handbag and will get excited as she spurts out long Latin names and random facts about the plant. Edith liked Jane as her strange antics always meant that she had something interesting and well researched to write about, which was one of the struggles of finding new people to write for them- they rarely wrote anything interesting.

* * *

  
She was bored shitless. She had conjured a sign by the door to tell people to go and put out the tea, coffee and biscuits; people started arriving in dribs and drabs. She interviewed the coach first – he was a complete bullshiter, he answered everything by going on about teamwork, practice and learning from mistakes.

  
The next four interviews were the shortest she had ever held. They fulfilled all stereotypes about quidditch players being stupid party animals. With every question asked there was a long wait before a 'umm..... I dunno..' and an encouraging smile before they gave a short answer.

  
The next was Ben Dawson, a chaser who Edith was friends with at school as he was is her house but two years older, in all the interview was quick paced, banterous and friendly.

  
“Do you ever feel restricted by the quidditch industry’s views and attitude about women restricting, and why?” Edith asked Ellie Crowen, one of the two women on the team. The interview was good and intelligently answered questions with well worded answers that seemed to show how sexist the quidditch industry is.

 

  
“Does it annoy you that when the media and public talk about you they tend to forget about what you have achieved and focus on your family?” Edith asked James Potter, completely abandoning the questions that Kath had already written.

  
“Of course, it seems like some people forget what I have done and when quidditch is brought up they think of my mother,” James replied, leaning forward in his seat, the questions continued like this for a while, Edith pushing further and further until the conversation rolled into quidditch. James was enjoying the interview. It was enthralling, not just because of Edith, but it was like a game of cat and mouse or who blinks first. She actually asked him what he was interested in, she encouraged him to add more, she seemed to find it interesting unlike most other journalists who always go back to does he prefer blondes or brunettes? lipstick or lip gloss?

  
He finally plucked up the courage to ask her when she was still scribbling away, her short hair falling over her face.

  
“If you have already had an article published will another one ever be?”

  
Edith looked up surprised at his nervous manner. “ What do you write about?”

  
“Usually to do with how we interact with muggles and issues that effect wizards too such as climate change or war,” James replied, looking at her face nervously.

  
“Could you quickly get some of your work for me to read?”

  
“Yes, I’ll just floo to get it,” James left the room quickly, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.

  
He isn't the smooth, calm, emotionless quidditch player that he appears to be, Edith mused as he tripped back into the room clutching paper.

  
When Edith browsed the work he looked at her more closely. She was wearing brown trousers with a floral top and a brown jacket, her short wavy hair was falling over her glasses which were perched on the edge of her nose. It struck him how much she reminded him of his godmother Luna, yet Edith did not look like she could be messed about.

  
“How much time a day do you spend playing quidditch- could you talk me through your schedule?”

  
James looked puzzled but responded nevertheless, “Not including games, half a day, so running through the week; Saturday 8:00- 10:30, no practice on Sundays, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday either half seven or eight until around eleven, and on Tuesdays is afternoon non- flying practice from half three to six.”

  
“ Do you want to work for us? Flexible hours or part time – whatever you want to call it- half days,” Edith looked up and their eyes caught. “Of course the pay won’t be much- the same as all of our part time employees. Oh- on a Friday we usually stay until half ten so we can print and distribute.”

  
James looked at her as she pushed her glasses up her nose, blinking as he let what she had just said sink in, then it hit him and he hastily replied, “Yes, I would love to.”

  
They arranged for him to come in for a partners meeting, Edith told him not to worry as they were just giving him the nod of approval. He would sign the contract afterwards and he would start next Monday. Finally someone has listened to what I enjoy, James thought, this is the first time in a while someone has acknowledged what I have done- not my parents, and have seen me as myself not projected on me what they think I should be.

 

* * *

“You‘ve fucked up again Edith,” shouted Tom, as he barged into the interview room where Edith and James were sitting surrounded by the flowers.

  
“No, it’s just she pissed people off,” said her dad- Theodore Nott as he came into the room, her mother following.

  
Her parents had aged well; her father’s features were softer and he looked jolly and caring, his hair was grey but still in abundance. Her mother was still elegant- her face did not show her age and her black hair was gently greying. It struck James how happy they looked compared to his parents and how pleased they were to see their daughter.

  
“Hello,” Edith said to her family, “this is James Potter, he’s our most recent employee- he will start next Monday.”

  
“Hello James,” Rosie – Edith's mother said as she shook his hand “I am Rosie.” James was surprised at the warmth being given off as he shook Edith's father’s hand and then the other man introduced himself as Edith's brother Tom.

  
“You’re going to be swept off your feet with work, quidditch and here – beware Edith has been known to push people,” said Theo as Edith stuck out her tongue.

  
“I’m sure I’ll survive,” James laughed.

  
Tom interrupted, “ The reason I am here is because I have been beginning to sort out the mess Edith has caused, it’s a weekly occurrence,” Tom added raising his eyebrows at James.

  
“It’s your job Tom- you’re the lawyer,” Edith said indignantly.

  
“Yes, but I’m not meant to be needed every week!”

  
Theo laughed “Edith just has a way of telling the truth which no one wants to hear.”

  
“Or just stirs up the already bubbling cauldron,” Rosie added with a smile.

  
This easy conversation surprised James as it continued even after Tom had left. It also surprised him how much he felt at home in the conversation, easily contributing.

  
“Your invited too James,” he was brought out of his thoughts as Rosie stated talking to him. “ To Edith's for dinner, don’t worry – I’ll be cooking so we will be safe!”

  
“Hey!”

  
James laughed and comfortably fell back into the conversation finally feeling himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, feedback would be appreciated.  
> Edited 14/10/18.  
> Update should come soon.  
> M


	3. Chapter 3

“I hope you know what you are getting into,” said Theodore Nott to James as they waited for his daughter and wife to catch them up.

  
It was around six and as dusk was settling, London was tranquil- the calm before the storm of a Saturday night. There weren’t hoards of men tripping over bottles left rolling on the street by teenagers, or groups of raucous, shrieking, scantily clad women, tripping over in their stilettos as they try to find a cab home. It was one of the only peaceful times in the city, as most people have left the office, or the tourists have cleared off, the bars began gently filling as they walked down the street.

  
Rosie turned around to talk to James and Edith who had fallen into step, interrupting as they made light conversation. “We’ll need to go to the supermarket on the way as Edith never has any food.”

  
“You know me too well."

  
“It’s a miracle you don’t waste away!”

  
Theo, who’s armed was linked with his wife’s, both looking like they could have been out of a magazine as their presence radiated around the bleak street, chuckled.

  
“This is Edith – she’s resourceful. Just because she never has any edible food doesn’t mean her strange diet will suffer. Last night she would have eaten cake and chocolate and finished a bottle of something. This morning she would have turned her kitchen inside out only to find eaten takeaways, mouldy bread and cheese and cat food. So on the way into work she would have probably bought some form of pastry, consumed too much coffee, eaten crisps and chocolate for lunch and then stolen someone’s fruit as she was still hungry. And that,” he added to James, “Is the daily diet of Edith.”

  
“I blame it all on school,” Rosie muttered.

  
Edith was smiling but had gone a shade of red, but replied jokingly. “Piss off. Stop shaming my diet. James' is a quidditch player, now he’s going to forever judge me, of course he’s going to be into all the healthy shit.”

  
James let out a bark of laughter. “Don’t worry, it probably makes me admire you even more and I’m not really into the healthy shit, as you call it, I think it’s a load of....”

  
“..Bollocks?” Theo finished the sentence as Rosie turned into the supermarket navigating her way to the baskets with wheels.

  
“Theo, do you want to do the honour? Edith's so clumsy she will end up slicing everyone’s legs off,” said Rosie as she handed the basket over. “I assume you haven’t got any food,” Rosie directed at her daughter who returned her gaze sheepishly, “ I’m planning on making a beef stew tonight.”

  
Rosie then proceeded to fill up the basket as they walked down the aisles, Theo standing dutifully beside her whilst Edith tagged awkwardly behind and James struggled to contain his laughter.

  
“How did we raise our daughter to be unable to complete a weekly shop, Rosie?” Theo mused with his wife as they observed Edith, who had finally found her forte in the booze aisle and had happily dragged James along. Theo put an arm around Rosie, “She’s definitely yours,” he said as he inclined his head towards them.

 

  
“Why are you laughing at me?” Asked Edith smiling.

  
“Look at it from my perspective; I go in for an interview about quidditch, ask if you are likely to get a second piece published, then get a job. I then start talking to you , and then I meet your family, then I get invited to dinner at your house - have you ever heard of taking a guy out on a date before you take him home or introduce him to the parents?! Also for someone with an important job you really can't cook from what I can gather, and you cannot shop....so forgive me for laughing.” James replied with a large grin on his face.

“Well I’m sure you’ll get used to my strange antics soon enough.”

  
James’ thoughts centred around what Edith had said. She had implied that he was here to stay- that was an unfamiliar concept to him as in the quidditch industry a few mistakes could mean the end of your career. The “get used to" bit also confused him- this didn’t seem like the usual hierarchical structure of work where the boss sat in his office getting other people to do their work for them. He knew this was not true, as even thought Edith was Co Editor she was also a main reporter, writing some of the most controversial pieces- the ones that really began to ruffle quite a few feathers. This thought continued to circle in his mind – he had never actually felt until now, that anybody would want him in any capacity- let alone want him to stay.

* * *

  
“I’m afraid it's a bit of a mess,” Edith said as she approached her flat with a key in hand, followed by James and her parents.

James thought that her home was rather nice compared to his- or the outside was at least. Edith's flat was the top part of a medium sized Victorian terrace. It seemed that time had forgotten the streets surrounding it, but nevertheless it still had character and life, and also was a few streets away from work. The only way into Edith's flat was by an outside staircase which echoed the same brick as the house. Instead of seeming drab and depressing, it seemed quaint and quirky as Edith had somehow managed to grow a rambling rose up the wall. Pots were also scattered about on the steps, with the tops of plants peaking over the stone railing. James definitely preferred this to his flat, which was in a rich, lifeless area – this, he told himself was part of the reason why most of his possessions were still in boxes, he wasn’t admitting that it was something else.

  
“No shit Sherlock,” James whispered under his breath as he walked into the hall.

  
“This is a fucking shit heap Edith,” her father said as he opened the door into the living room.

  
Edith's flat was a tip. Clothes were escaping from her bedroom and to her own mortification her underwear had somehow managed to find itself in the hall where James was standing. She caught James’ eyes and then they both burst out laughing as they listened to her parents tidying up in the kitchen and her mum loudly complaining.

  
“For goodness sake- she has a dishwasher, why can’t she use it! I know none of us have ever been able to do magic around her- but she could have at least picked up on how to do housework. And for fucks sake, she’s magic; can’t she just do some mumbo jumbo shit to clear up!”

  
The sound of clattering from the bathroom continued to fuel their laughter. A black cat strutted out of the bathroom.

  
“And that would be my cat Lavender,” Edith said regarding the black cat who was rubbing herself against James leg, “Dad was right earlier- you have no idea what you are getting yourself into.”

  
James’ lips quirked into a smile, “Do you want help cleaning up,” with raised eyebrows and a mocking smile he took out his wand and cast a cleaning spell; the clothes flew back into Edith's drawers crisply folded, the bottles in the bathroom rearranged themselves and the layer of dust disappeared from everything- exposing the brown not grey frame of the mirror.

  
“Of course he cleans...” Edith muttered under her breath.

* * *

 

“Gosh, I haven’t been in to a quidditch match for years, I used to love it at school – but I never was on the team,” Theo said as they were sitting on the sofa, the food long gone, devoured by appreciative recipients, all thankful that Rosie cooked.

  
“I remember that,” Edith said. She was sat on a chair opposite her parents who were of the sofa, her mother’s head resting on her father's chest, James was sitting with his chair pulled near to hers.

  
“I must have been about four or five. Tom and Ann were at Hogwarts. They wrote so excitedly about quidditch, it was enthralling – I was obsessed. I remember Matt telling me about the teams, the league and the players and I devoured as any young child would. But it was the game that I found so exciting, I remember Ann writing that it is like being free.”

  
“It is,” James muttered as he watched Edith remembering the past- immersed in her story.

  
“I desperately wanted to play, but you told me that I had to wait until Hogwarts as it was dangerous, and as neither of you could do magic, you would never be able to help if something happened, I was really jealous of Tom and Ann. I soon realised it was pointless trying to persuade you, so instead I listened to all of the matches on the radio and looked at the pictures that Matt brought from newspapers and magazines. For my sixth birthday, you got me tickets for the Arrows against the Tornadoes, Ann was really jealous.”

  
Rosie smiled at the memory, “You also thought it was really unfair that I wasn’t coming, as I was missing out on the fun. It took you a while to understand that as a muggle I wasn’t able to go.”

  
James looked surprised at this, Edith continued.

  
“I was absolutely ecstatic, you were excited too Dad. I was overwhelmed – I’d never been exposed to that much magic in my life; the sellers, the people... it was bloody amazing. I remember waiting in the queue to collect the tickets, I kept on saying 'Daddy, look at this!' Everyone in the queue was amused. The woman behind asked if it was my first time at a quidditch match and told me to have fun. It then struck me that Mum wasn’t there, missing all of the fun, so I asked Dad why she wasn’t, the answer was the same as usual.”

  
“But you were as sharp as always,” Theo added.

  
“It’s illegal you finally said. Several heads turned. Would Mum go to prison? I asked, you said possibly. I remember hearing people chuckling when I said ' That’s good that Mum stayed at home then,' I didn’t understand why they were laughing, so I said 'Tom said prison is horrible. He also said that if you want to look what a society is like, just look at how it treats its prisoners,' people looked uncomfortable and off put, especially when you said that Tom was a wise lad.”

  
“I remember the ticket man smiling at me when I was jumping up and down from excitement, I seem to remember singing a hymn from school at the same time. However I had no fucking clue why he was so hostile after Dad had said our surname, it felt like after 'Nott' had been said, the air seemed to crackle with this kind of coldness and hostility and anger, I was so puzzled.

It was soon forgotten when we sat down, and I started babbling on about the players, I remember several people saying I was sweet. I was sitting of Dad’s lap so I could get a better view, the players had just come out and the game had just started, I was watching in awe as the players zoomed about. But then two men came and stood next to us, I told them very matter-of-factly that there weren’t actually any free seats, and the spare seat was actually mine.

  
But they did not go away, I remember looking up at Dad and he was really tense. The people around us were soon turning their attention towards us. One of the men crouched down and asked if the man who I was with had taken me, I was thoroughly confused, why would they be asking that? No he’s my daddy, I said rather loudly, we soon had more people’s attention. The commentator was silent as he took a pause, so the 'you are going to have to leave' echoed around the stadium, we now even had the quidditch players’ attention.

  
Dad stood up and said, 'I'm afraid, my little quidditcheer, we are going to have to leave early, would you like a piggy back ride?' The commentator had gone silent watching everything unfold.

  
I then started crying, rooted to the spot, the quidditch players stopped playing as they turned around to look. In between my tears I asked why, why did we have to go? It was my birthday present, and it wasn’t fair that I would have to wait until I went to Hogwarts! Why do we have to leave?

  
The man let out a mirthless bark of laughter, 'Because, little girl, your father isn’t welcome here. The fucking degenerate of a man that is your father, isn’t fucking welcome anywhere. The only place where he is welcome is either hell-where he can burn for the rest of fucking eternity, or rotting away in a shitty cell in Azkaban WHERE HIS KIND BELONG!'

  
I remember crying, out of terror rather than frustration, clutching a teddy that Dad had just bought me. The air was electric as Dad picked me up and said, ‘Don’t you dare use that language in front of my daughter, or intimidate her ever again,' before he walked off.

  
Funnily enough I’ve never been much of a fan of quidditch ever again,” Edith added as she downed her glass of wine.

  
James looked appalled that anyone could ever be treated like that, “And no one did anything? That was the only time anything like that has ever happened, right?”

  
“Of course not!” Theo replied.

  
The anger was rolling of Edith, she shakily lit a cigarette.

  
“That’s part of the reason I went into journalism. To make people aware of what’s going on. To give people a chance to speak out, to give everyone a voice, including the silenced.”

  
“I understand now,” James said, filling the silence. “ I understand when you ask whether I know what I am getting myself into – and I do. There’s more to it than arse licking or pissing people off, it’s about making people aware, making sure people think, rather than them following the ministry around blindly....”

  
“It’s also about holding people accountable.Whisky, anyone?” Edith stood up to the cupboard, less angry than before but her mind was still reeling.

“I’m pleased you understand,” Rosie said.

  
Her husband added, “Not many people do.”

  
“People just think I’m being difficult, or attention seeking,” Edith shouted from the kitchen. “But through writing I am giving the oppressed and the silent a voice, and I am making sure that people are held responsible. Even Tom and Ann don’t understand.”

  
“Tom and Ann aren’t actually our children,” Rosie began, filling James in, “They call Edith a sister but they are actually cousins. My sister and her husband (who was a wizard) died in a car crash, along with my parents when they were younger, but still old enough to remember their parents. I then was the legal guardian of them – it was a bit of a shock, I hadn’t really settled down and was in no means responsible. Something was a bit strange with the will, so we ended up getting kicked out, with no money. I am a historian, and I was working for the publishing company that Matt - Theo's school friend had set up on behalf on them both. Matt said we could stay at Hazelvale as it had been empty for nearly seven years, and then we could sort something out with Theo when he was released. He let us stay, rent free. The business was exceeding once Theo sorted the accounts and started to make investments, and with time he would create the Hazelvale group. Meanwhile I got pregnant, then married, so my surname changed and Edith would also be a Nott, but the children weren’t. I worried a lot about them, especially how they were coping, but in retrospect I realise that Edith had it a lot worse.”

  
Edith came back through, “They never understood quite how.... prejudiced doesn’t really sum it up....you know what I mean. I don't really get on with Ann, we fell out over a fair bit, she spends most of her time abroad. She says I was making everything up for attention, but it wasn't me that I cared about. Ann was sorted into Gryffindor, so she never really saw or knew any one who had problems – or even being bullied. If you're in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff you can be naive and turn a blind eye, but Ann claims she didn’t know what I was talking about. Tom and Ann had different surnames, this meant they could disappear, be left alone, not be associated with certain people and beliefs automatically. Tom is much more understanding as he was in Slytherin, and if you’re in Slytherin you’re screwed. Everyone else assumed your a pureblood bigot, evil, unkind, torturers muggles and muggleborns in your spare time. They blame you when something goes wrong and watch you in case you are the new Voldemort. It’s very much Slytherins have to look out for themselves, as it’s them dumped in a school of hungry lions.

  
Tom had it easier than I did. His name was different – it wasn’t well known or notorious, and if you were to look back you’d find his father who was a Hufflepuff, so many just thought he was a poor, misunderstood orphan, sorted into the wrong house. He’d also never had to properly explain who lived with, and teachers never really picked on him expecting him to know then answers, but with me -of course I had read up before I went to Hogwarts, but teachers always asked me to perform magic that we had never done before, or ask if I had ever seen a complex spell before, when I said no, they just took me to be stupid. I think you see what I am trying to get at ,” Edith finished, handing out the glasses.

  
Theo raised his glass to James, “Well, once you’re in you'll never be able to escape, from work and Edith,” James didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing, “You’ll be constantly being dragged to the pub. You’ll always have someone watching out for you - they’re rather protective of their own.

  
James raised his glass, Edith sat down and looked at him earnestly.

  
“People are going to say that I am using you. And to a certain extent I am.”

  
“I know, I am not that naive,” James replied running a hand through his hair.

  
“I have been looking for new people as we are really overworked and we could start expanding, and your writing is good – exactly what I was looking for, and you write about important things that interest you. You're James Potter – everyone knows who you are. You have a shit-tonne of fans, some young and others that we wouldn’t usually get reading us. Someone who is remotely interested in Quidditch will probably read at least one of your articles, and your fans will probably read every word you ever write.

  
It may look like I am just doing it for the statistics, but it is about more than that. Your articles aren’t lightweight shit, they are thought provoking and intelligent. You are using your status in a good way; you are educating people and making them aware. Think about a Hogwarts student, even if only they have read your article, you have still done well – you’ve still educated them, you’ve still made them aware - made them think. Even if it's just Brenda complaining at work, you’ve still made people think and question. To a certain extent, you're more important than the rest of us, and you should be proud, James Potter.

  
You should be proud.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, feedback would be greatly appreciated (hint, hint).  
> Sorry about the really long update time, I've been rather busy.  
> This chapter is the end on the introductory chapters, and the actual storyline will begin to emerge in the next few chapters.  
> M

**Author's Note:**

> AN- thank you for reading. In the next chapter the interviews will take place and more about the characters will be revealed...  
> Your thoughts would be greatly appreciated so please review!  
> Edited 14/10/18  
> M


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